


Yo ho ho ho, a pirates life for us?

by Huidindin



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Attempt at Humor, Established Friendships (why isn't this an official tag lol), Gen, Heist, Just svt and pirate shenanigans, Kinda Crack, Magical Realism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Some Plot, Swearing, everyone & everyone - Freeform, its a gen fic now but watch it morph into something else knowing my shipping habits, just seventeen being a soft family kinda, keyword: Attempt, lots of thievery, love potions? yes, lowkey magical realism, oh and jeonghans kind of a kleptomaniac, yanno typical piratey stuff so expect swearing (there isnt actually that much)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27723848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huidindin/pseuds/Huidindin
Summary: Seungcheol loves his swashbuckling crew of 12, with his whole big heart, and no one can stop them from conquering the seas. Well, maybe, Yoon Jeonghan and his mutinous ass, oh, and Hong Jisoo too-- don't forget Soonyoung! He orchestrated the whole mutiny thing first. Screw it. His own members are going to stop him from conquering the seas -- Jihoon's the only one he can trust.(AKA the SVT!Pirate AU no one asked for but meself. don't take it too seriously~)
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan, Jeon Wonwoo & Lee Chan | Dino, Jeon Wonwoo & Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kim Mingyu & Lee Seokmin | DK, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK, Wen Jun Hui | Jun & Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Finally Treading

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies, let me present my heart and soul, my wip thats been sitting in the dungeon *read: notes* since august 2017, my absolute darling that isn't even nearly finished or that impressive and mostly just a fun way to write (isnt all fic just that tho?) kinda crack, coz svt are hilarious and deserve to be written so-- just add in pirates and *cool flashy presenting noises* ya got yourselves a svt pirate au (this was mostly mymy's fault and svt 2015 halloween). 
> 
> Anyways i hope you enjoy this, and updates will be terribly slow, because im a master procrastinator at heart <3 but i hope posting it will finally give me a bit more motivation and traction in my writing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, they really don't need the officials on their tails, especially after the last time. Maybe if they stick to the plan, they might be fine.

The salt spray always invigorates the boys. The swell of the rippling ocean rocks the hulking ship, its wooden bough creaking with the white impact. The hull's copper plating groans quietly, amongst the crashing notes of the ocean, and a familiar and harmonious tune is created. 

"Ey Captain! Land sighted at two!" Minghao yells over the snapping gale of the seas. Without loitering around for a response, the helmsman grips the iron railings of _'Going Serenity'_ and steadies his feet, guiding himself below the main deck to check in with the navigator’s quarters and deliberate the sighted course. 

**  
**

Within these quarters, Jihoon is busy deciphering the complex map of ocean currents to the next port, Wonwoo’s missing but Minghao had spied him, across from the quarter deck, at the forecastle with Junhui— the ship was in desperate need of replenishment with the crew’s supplies dangerously depleted. Jihoon flickers to attention at the creak of wooden floorboards. Its complaint suggested that someone has come to pay him a visit, after what feels like days of seclusion (though, it’s only been a few hours since the last human contact; since he exchanged soft yawns and even softer words with Wonwoo and Junhui, before he passed out, taking just another one of his many naps throughout the night, uncomfortable, with his arms the only cushion against the hard mahogany desk). Whether new land had been sighted or the captain needed Jihoon, he could always expect it to be either of the situations; years at sea, despite popular belief, was quite routine at this point; predictable. 

Minghao pops his head through the door, a lazy grin gracing his face and greets Jihoon with a casual salute. "Yo, Hyung, lands been sighted. North-west, I think?" The helmsman scratches his silver-haired head and Jihoon sleepily rolls his eyes at the gesture. 

"Did you use the compass, Minghao?" Jihoon asks, an exasperated tone masks his tired amusement. Usually, the other occupants of the navigator’s space would be telling him of such news, but the crews roles, over time, have melded together, their roles a strange amalgamation of each other. The man in question has the audacity to look sheepish and starts muttering at the floor. 

“Don't you trust me, Hyung!" He clutches at his chest, feigning innocence— as if he’s ever _not_ used the compass, Minghao’s a capable and dependable crew member (in truth, he certainly is a great helmsman — one of the best in all the seven seas)! The scene is all too familiar to the boys who occupy the navigators' space— Jihoon would never admit it but Minghao’s sporadic visits would leave him feeling much less sea-glum and a million times lighter after days tracking the ships course with the sea-charts, and after staring at the minuscule niggling of a celestial compass’ needle point, Jihoon would surely go insane after a time, especially if Minghao doesn’t come down within the fortnight. You can only go so many days dealing with Wonwoo and Junhui’s paradoxically muted horseplay (Jihoon loves them, don’t get him wrong, but he can’t take another spontaneous poking battle, or worse yet, one of their whispered yowling matches). Jihoon waves away the chuckling man and, a moment later, trails Minghao to the deck. He squints at the fire-red light of the barely risen sun and brings a hand up to shelter his sight. Cooped up in the lantern-lit room, it takes Jihoon a while before his eyes adjust to the amplified brightness of the main deck. The sails whip in the breeze and nearby someone grunts in effort. Seungkwan comes into view from behind the base of the wooden mast, hauling the running riggings of the mainmast, furling its sail, and promptly depleting _Serenity_ 's wind journey as they prepare to close in on a new port. 

**  
**

"Hyung, you're finally outta that coop,” says Seungkwan and Jihoon shoots him a well-meaning glower. The young boatswain subtly scoffs, wholly accustomed to the act. The main deck harbours half of the crew: Soonyoung assists Seungkwan in securing the riggings, surveying _Serenity_ 's anchor and cordage; Chan is rushing between the main deck and the aft stern, relaying orders from the captain's quarters and working up a frantic air among the ship— as routine, whenever _Serenity_ docks; and then there is Jeonghan and Jisoo. The barrel-maker is lounging upon his wooden barrels on deck, dozing off beneath the purpling sky and is seemingly unfazed by the frenzy onboard. Jisoo has made sure to keep the lazing man in check, trying to discourage Jeonghans's habit of sleeping out in the open without shelter; constantly harping on about the risk of burning his (beautifully tanned) skin and developing melanoma among other debilitating conditions. Jeonghan listlessly drowns out Jisoo's incessant reproach, and softly, he says, “Jisoo, my darling, just live a little.” And that’s that. Jeonghan listlessly waves the doctor away and continues to bask in the coolness of a waking day. He would never admit it unless in the confines of his own mind, but Jeonghan finds a certain comfort in the lull of the young doctor's constant badgering, and never explicitly tells Jisoo to stop. He simply enjoys it too much. 

"Waaah, we finally found some land!" 

The soft click of leather boots halts the motions of the main deck. The presence of the captain on the quarterdeck stalls the twelve crew members— luckily, the remaining half of the crew had just stumbled from their respective quarters to the main deck at the sounds of Chan's errand rounds, just in time to witness their captain's display of enthusiasm. Choi Seungcheol stands tall, with his arms outstretched extravagantly, his loose-fitting blouse dancing amidst the ocean wind. Surveying the mania before him, the captain lets out a delighted yell at the sight of his crew members who also join in the cheer, shedding their sleepiness with eagerness and a whole lot of huzza— the hollering crew of _'Going Serenity'_ has finally docked after 17 weeks at sea. 

~

"Jihoon, come on!" 

The first mate cringes at the pouting captain and after a moment his face morphs into a scowl— all Jihoon does these days is shoot a number of scowls at most of the crew members; well, the ones that deserve the scowls, evidently; that, or guffaw at their shenanigans. He does so with the utmost of love. Behind every little glower is a simmering amusement and, dare say, fondness.

"You can't stay back again, let's explore!" Seungcheol says, tugging at the sleeve of Jihoon’s scratchy brown overcoat. 

"Plea--" 

**  
**

"Are you two done yet?" The captain’s whining is interrupted by the snappy remark shot from within the crowd. The remaining crew watches the scene between the captain and the first mate unfold with poorly disguised glee. Jihoon once caught Junhui, Seungkwan and Soonyoung placing a betting pool on whether the captain and the first mate were, to put it in safer terms, more than friends. And ever since then the crews been in on the little joke, all except the captain of course, and Jihoon himself from the sheer will to forget he ever found out about the whole situation in the first place. But, alas, somewhere amongst the clatter of his grey matter lies the knowledge that the crew members ‘ship’ him with Choi Seungcheol (not his words, it’s Junhui’s; something about ships and pirates and relationships, to which everyone declared him an absolute genius — Jihoon had the total misfortune of stumbling across that fiasco too).

Seungcheol shifts his pleading gaze from Jihoon towards the peanut gallery of eleven men before him, transforming from a wide-eyed guilelessness to a look of slit-narrow suspicion. Luckily, the captain is much too distracted with the task at hand to pay attention to the voice and its identity (but he has a lurking suspicion that it was Seungkwan). 

Jihoon, sensing the blooming roots of some unyielding banter (something he was too accustomed to), slinks away quietly to stride across the timber gangplank as the crew is busy narrowing their eyes at each other, well, mostly at an indignant looking Seungkwan— they knew better than to interrupt something between Seungcheol and Jihoon— and in a few moments, Jihoon is across and onto the port, swaggering towards the dockyard without a glance behind him. 

**  
**

"You guys coming or not?" 

**  
**

They tread after the first mate. The air between them brewing with the trapped raillery they were not deemed to display in the presence of the small sailing master. 

**  
**

“So, everyone knows what they have to do?” 

A chorus of mumbled and grumbled agreement is the reply and Chan, the young cabin boy, nods in satisfaction. At least all his morning work wasn’t completely in vain— it’s hard enough being on the constant move on a sailing ship and worrying about your messages actually being heard and remembered is absolutely tiresome. 

**  
**

Of course, the first place the crew stop by is the meat market. It isn’t too much of a trek from where they’ve docked but it still proves to be a journey. Trying to wrangle thirteen rowdy men who’ve been stuck in the isolating grasp of a ship at sea proves to be a challenge. Once they reach the small tent, Mingyu pushes his way to the front of the crew, much to their amusement — he’s way too thrilled at the sight of the bloody stall. Soonyoung mentions something about baby calves and growing up, alarming Chan who’s become impatient at the diversion, as well as Seokmin, whose caterpillar-brows angle up in distress. Mingyu’s got his hands on the fattest beef baron hanging from one of many silver meat hooks, catching Mingyu on sight. He’s already grinning from the thought of eating something other than fish and grain, oh, and _cooking_ something other than fish and grain (if you can call boiling cooking). The outer surface of the baron is marbled with white fat, and Mingyu itches for a cast-iron skillet to get the fat rendered and he needs a fire pronto. 

**  
**

“Gyu, we have no time to cook for ourselves or find the stuff to do so.” Mingyu pouts but doesn’t disagree with his captain, hooking the baron of beef back in its place and smiling embarrassedly at the stall owner who’s giving the crew the stink-eye, he’d rather not have these stinking men lay their grubby hands on his fresh meat, thank you very much. They get ushered along by the other patrons surrounding the meat stall, who bristle with irritation at the smelly men hogging the place, and Minghao pushes the dejected Mingyu across the wharf and everyone else follows suit, with some faux whispering from Chan who mentions something about sticking to the plan. They finally reach past the timber decking of the wharf and get onto the dockyard. The main area is much busier than the port markets and stalls, and it gets increasingly more difficult to keep the boys from running for the various shops that litter the dockyard. They need to separate and stick to the damn plan. 

**  
**

Seungcheol stops them right then and there, smack bang in the centre of the wave of people that traverse the dockyard, splitting the crowd who make their way around the group without much notice, too caught up in the pull of responsibilities to pay attention to the small gang.

“Okay, so I need Nonnie, Kwannie and Jihoon with me to get the gunner supplies and we’ll find someone to stock the barrels with gunpowder,” says Seungcheol without a care for who might overhear, “Don’t forget to trade the barrel of red snapper we caught on the way here before we get back.” The statement is directed at Jisoo, the only one who appears to be actually listening— he isn’t, really, he’s just spacing out on the captain at this point, but the truth is a painful thing so Seungcheol likes to pretend. The captain gives a final clap, and the members disperse into their allocated groups assigned by Soonyoung and relayed by Chan. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu are tasked with replenishing the food supply, but first finding a decent bar to dine in. Jisoo and Jeonghan go off to sell their goods and plunder; they can find some loyalists around; every port has their fair share of outlaws. And the remaining men comprising of Junhui, Chan, Wonwoo and Minghao are tasked with exploring the dockyard and the town, and to take note of who’s who in the area. They really don’t need the authorities on their tails, especially after the last time. 


	2. Mapping out my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan is the only one with rights on the ship, and maybe Jihoon too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again, this is the last of the pre-written material i have, everything from this point forward is gonna be freshly written so the tone/writing style might shift a tad, and for reals for reals updates will actually be slow now hehe~
> 
> its coming out earlier than expected for the two sweet readers that left me nice comments uwu, lots of love to yall, and i hope everyone has good day, happy reading!

“Let’s start a mutiny, Jisoo,” Jeonghan says seriously, not even three metres away from the dispersing crew. Jisoo looks at him, a smirk blossoming, and looks back to see if the others heard. Seungcheol is shaking his head, and Jihoon is cackling, their retreating backs shaking with mirth. The others are either really over it or ignore it all together. Soonyoung lingers for a moment, staring after the pair, but is ushered away by Seokmin, who’s wagging a playful finger at the quartermaster.

“You’re a terrible mutineer, Yoon Jeonghan.” Jisoo turns back. The pair are pacing themselves and following the speed of the crowd around them. They don’t look too out of place since there isn’t much variety in clothes these days, despite their travels. It’s just shirts, coats and breeches, brown and white and dull— perfect for being inconspicuous.

“Look, just because we had a little bad luck last time, doesn’t mean we’ll have the same kinda luck again.”

“This isn’t about luck, it’s about your commitment to sleeping at every waking hour,” says Jisoo. Jeonghan has an exhausting role in the crew; barrels won’t check themselves and, more often than not, he’s below in the gunners deck with Hansol, sweating uncontrollably and screaming at the recoil of cannons. It’s not like Jisoo could understand being a _surgeon_ — they would only get sick every other week, so by that definition it’s a weekly job. Jeonghan grins at him.

“Oh, my dearest, Joshuji, that’s rich coming from a meditating monk like you —“ Jeonghan hooks a crooked finger in Jisoo’s necklace, bearing a cross, and tugs on it before continuing, “you are meditating aren’t you? Just resting your eyes?” He laughs. It’s awfully contagious, that laugh of his, and after a moment Jisoo’s at it too. He’s got him, hook, line and sinker.

They continue on with the mindless planning of the mutiny the pair will enact on the _totally_ unsuspecting crew and walk with purpose to the centre of the dockyard which houses various buildings and markets, girdling the spiralling castle.

“Who needs such a giant-ass tower anyways, holy pearl,” says Jeonghan, whistling at the sight of the royal castle that stands tall and narrow, “they’re either over-compensating for something, or they’re hiding loads of valuable stuff.” Jisoo nods in agreement; by stuff, Jeonghan means treasure, and the materialism makes Jisoo itch and clutch at the leather-bound script he holds at his side. It’s funny how such meaningless clumps of matter can be so valuable sometimes— so valuable that it could mean life or death for some.

“Hey, you two, stop!” When they hear, ‘hey you two,’ they should immediately assume the person _isn’t_ talking about themselves, but reactions are hard to quell, especially if you _are_ guilty of piracy. The pair stop for a split second, and Jeonghan instantly breaks the strange hold that comes over them by shoving Jisoo, who stumbles back and promptly falls to the dirt road as Jeonghan continues to tackle his waist, headlong and with full force. 

“Stay away from my wife, you nasty priest!” Jeonghan seethes, straddling Jisoo’s torso to keep everything pinned down. The man can’t yell very well but he can be intimidating all the same with theevil, lifeless tone he conjures up for the farce. _What a hoodwinker,_ Jisoo thinks. He isn’t surprised in the slightest, and barely caught off guard as he responds in kind. Jisoo struggles against the weight on top him, while side-eyeing the officer still a distance away and the killer bayonet in hand.

“Oh, but, sir, I’m a servant of the lord, I would never purge myself in sin.” He gives Jeonghan a sly wink and manages to clutch the bible to his chest— Jeonghan can hardly keep the laughter in.

Seeing the small gathering of people growing larger around the little spectacle, the officer quickly comes and intervenes, pulling Jeonghan away from Jisoo, who’s started to mutter false prayers, and instantly busies himself with ‘Father Jisoo’.

“Father are you alright? I couldn’t recognise you out of your cassock, pardon me, but you look absolutely befouled.” Jisoo does his usual act, harping on about his ‘secret mission’, and his effort to be more integrated with the common folk, and once the officer is satisfied with the whole sham, he looks over to Jeonghan beside him, still in the officers grip. “And this one, Father, would you like me to take care of him for you?” The officer asks. Jisoo is as much of a hoodwinker as Jeonghan is and takes a careful moment to consider letting the officer jail him or something equally absurd.

“I don’t think time in a cell would do this citizen much good,” Jisoo decides, already planting the seed of misdirection, and the officer relaxes his suspicions, “good sir, I think I can take care of this deranged man.” Now Jisoo is just having way too much fun, and Jeonghan is handed off to ‘Father Jisoo’ after having his hands roughly bound as a parting gift from the officer, just for good measure.

Finally, the crowd disperses and the officer leaves with his chest puffed up; he did something today, made a difference — probably saved a distressed priest from the insane accusations of a mentally ill-equipped citizen. Good for him. He doesn’t get this much action in a week and its only Monday.

Once they round a corner into a dinghy snicket, Jeonghan playfully shoves at Jisoo who gushes with laughter.

“I feel like there was a much easier method of getting out of that.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in ease? It doesn’t matter anyways, we got out of it didn’t we, and no thanks to your ‘Father’ spiel,” Jeonghan teases. It really isn’t a spiel, Jisoo was a clergyman in training in another life — Jeonghan sometimes makes it hard to forget.

He unties the rough fibres that wind around Jeonghan’s wrists and his laughter quiets down as he rubs at the little bit of redness there. It really is nothing, but Jisoo’s doctor instinct kicks in.

“Do we need to get anything for that?” He asks Jeonghan. Soft and fond.

—

“You’ll never get a break from them you know,” says Jihoon brightly. Hansol’s spacing out and treads on the back of Seungkwan’s boot, stopping his stride. He turns around and Hansol walks straight into his chest, but quickly plays it off as an awkward but amiable embrace. Seungcheol sighs.

“Yeah, I know.” The captain’s group has to loop around to the back alleys, where the dodgy people are. Where the goods are. The two are symbiotic. They also try to employ the ‘camo’ strategy and blend into the sea of sailors and inhabitants that billow to and fro, with the rhythm of their early morning routines. Only Seungcheol looks a little out of place, with his yellowing blouse unbuttoned, showing just enough of his smooth chest to be tasteful. He’s purposefully left his hat and bandana on _Serenity_ but wrangling him into a modest wool coat seemed to cross a line and that was the end of the little debacle— his flared pantaloons went unmentioned by the crew, who collectively winced at the ostentatiousness of his favourite garment, but they knew better than to voice their concerns about that particular piece. Though, Jihoon thinks, he’s the only person on this spinning piece of rock to pull off such an outfit and still look kind of handsome.

Jihoon walks alongside his captain and the young boatswain and master gunner amble ahead, their animated conversation muted by the surrounding noise of the crowd. They become engrossed in the topic of pirate tunes and jingles, arguing about the superior melody of the sea shanty’s the crew sing on a daily basis. Seungkwan gets especially loud that the conversation reaches Jihoon and Seungcheol some ways away.

“There’s a reason we keep the guns in the port, so we don’t have to hear your crappy melodies on deck, Sol,” Seungkwan says heatedly. Jihoon is appalled at the idea of Hansol being a bad singer— he’s got a voice of an angel; he could probably make any melody sound good. Hansol mentions something about magnificently pulsing jingles to row to and to shoot to, his calm voice barely caught in the wind.

“Cheol we need to stop them from being so bloody loud about the whole— ” Jihoon flails in Seungcheol’s general direction, and whispers, “ _piracy thing,”_ making Seungcheol giggle. Jihoon doesn’t know why he’s giggling. Seungcheol tries to reason that they aren’t talking about anything legitimately incriminating but Jihoon just gives him a deadpan stare. They start a brisk walk— well, a brisker walk— and sidle up to Hansol and Seungkwan.

“Boys have we forgotten who we are? Just normal old chaps, right? Normal. Not. Pirates.” Jihoon smacks Seungcheol’s arm, and the captain gives him an innocent look.

“Look, what this… man was trying to say is that we gotta keep it on the down low, remember?” The two nod but they really don’t remember at all if the slow side glance exchanged between them is any indicator. But, if Jihoon is saying something, they’re going to listen. They don’t stop talking about all the pirate-y things they do; it’s their life, the only thing they could go on and on and on about, but both Seungkwan and Hansol begin to speak in a strange code to mask the topic of contention. Right there on the spot, like they’ve always had this new language as their mother tongue— it’s the kwannie-nonie dialect and Jihoon and Seungcheol look at each other wondering, _do we sound like that to the others?_

They do, but they remain oblivious to the fact.

After several minutes of wandering about, the pack find themselves a suitably dank area to further inspect. They come across various vendors selling incense and probably some shonky voodoo objects behind its purple curtains; other sellers mumble constantly and ferociously squawk at any passer-by. Hansol gets an earful from one particular vendor and gets sprayed in the face with some kind of mist that instantly has him panting and fisting at his eyes— the salesmen gets a nasty left hook to the nose, even as Seungcheol and Jihoon restrain the livid Seungkwan. In the struggle, nearly half the vendor’s display is upturned as Hansol stumbles wildly and Seungkwan has made it his life mission to kill the cowering salesman, who’s dropped the offensive vial in his attempt to find cover. Jihoon resorts to pinning the boatswain in his arms and lifting him bodily off the mouldy cobblestone just after Seungkwan gets a perfectly placed flying kick to the salesman’s chest, using both Jihoon and Seungcheol’s hold as leverage to vault at the poor guy. The salesman screams. No one seems too alarmed by the commotion, the vendors just turn their backs on the mess looking bored and suddenly quiet, but the group flee down the narrow arcade and into the open space of the central dockyard. Seungcheol refuses to let them get into shit this early in the game, practically tugging Seungkwan and Hansol (poor Hansol, who’s painfully mumbling something along the lines of, ‘Ow, Hyung but I — holy shit, its actually burning — haven’t done anything!’) by the ears.

Well, so much for trying to find some outlaws to trade with. Seungkwan manages to usher the writhing gunner to a decorative fountain in the corner of the yard and cups a handful of water to splash onto Hansol’s face, washing the acrid mist from his eyes and nose. He repeats this a few times until Hansol starts to open his bloodshot eyes and is able to wash his own face in the fountain.

Hansol, the ever-calm, says, “Do you think they sell acid as perfume?” Genuinely, and stupidly, curious. Seungkwan scoffs at him and says something about having his faced burnt off and being worried for nothing. He excuses himself— finding some space away from Hansol, who was suspiciously trying to lace his fingers with Seungkwan’s own, the touchy behaviour, though not completely surprising, seems mildly out of character for Hansol.

Jihoon can see Seungkwan rubbing at his eyes totally oblivious to Hansol’s earlier ministrations, but that isn’t any of his business. Jihoon takes a moment to scour the area, instinctively and swiftly, the people seem much more well-dressed than those on the outskirts of the dockyard— a clocktower reads the eighth hour of the day, and Jihoon suddenly craves something to drink (the non-alcoholic type of drink). He’ll never get over the feeling of being caffeinated every morning, the rich-brew ready and delivered as his eyes open to a new day, even after all this time, the electric feeling will never be forgotten.

“It’s ok, Sol’s a tough one,” says Seungcheol, gently rubbing at his shoulder, mirroring the frown that’s etched itself across Jihoon’s face subconsciously. He schools his features into a poor imitation of blankness then smiles back at the captain, instantly feeling guilty about his feelings; or rather, what he wasn’t feeling. Hansol is tough and he knows it.

They regroup again as Hansol’s face calms, returning from an angry flush to his normal freckled complexion. Seungkwan’s sulking remains unaddressed, but it’s for the better. He just needs some time with himself, or with Hansol alone. Jihoon suggests they split up further to find supplies, and Seungkwan seems to straighten, eyes becoming more focused. Hansol’s still trying to hold his hands and get as humanly close as he can to Seungkwan’s side, and, to everyone’s surprise, Seungkwan doesn’t seem to reciprocate the behaviour at all, narrowing his eyes at Hansol. Huh, that’s strange.

—

“Soonyoungie hyung, you should join them and become a proper scoundrel.” Seokmin singsongs and wags a clean index finger in Soonyoung’s direction. Soonyoung gives him a questioning look, eyebrows lifted and eyes wide, head tilted to the side.

“Seok-ah, you do know that I was actually the mastermind behind that first one?” Seokmin laughs, eyes disappearing into crescents, but he nods confirming that he did in fact know that Soonyoung was behind the first mutiny with Jeonghan and Jisoo -- if you can call an attempt at building a raft from barrels and spare rigging and stealing Jihoon’s treasure maps, just because he was bored and needed the attention, a mutiny. Seokmin is reminded of the fact that Soonyoung is a terrible planner and nearly has an existential crisis thinking about the quartermaster’s role as the justice of peace, when really he was the disrupter of peace seventy-seven percent of the time. Soonyoung’s genuine confusion melts off his face and is replaced with a grin. Seokmin remains giggling because Soonyoung’s very existence brings joy and laughter to the musician at all times.

Soonyoung looks longingly at the backs of the pair of self-proclaimed mutineers and spends a moment considering the repercussions of leaving Mingyu and Seokmin to find the food themselves so he can go off and plan along with Jisoo and Jeonghan, but his mutinous thoughts are betrayed by the gargling noises coming from his flat belly. Mingyu waves him over to where he is, way ahead of the pair, and Seokmin links arms with the quartermaster and breaks out into a run, laughing playfully and half-dragging Soonyoung along the worn dirt road. They slow when they catch up to Mingyu and Seokmin unlinks their arms for ease of walking — Soonyoung suddenly misses the warmth that disappears with Seokmin’s arm.

“You’re dreams of going solo can wait, Hyung, food is calling!” Seokmin says seriously, all toothy smiles and crescent eyes disappearing as he looks at Soonyoung’s form, up and down. Seokmin pouts. “You’ve lost all your pudge, Hyung.”

The quartermaster doesn’t seem too disheartened by the fact, but it’s in these moments that he realises that despite Seokmin’s self-proclaimed title of being the crews ‘musical genius’, he also makes up the trio of talented cooks on the ship, along with Mingyu and Jisoo. He grins cheekily at Seokmin and gives the musician’s stomach a soft pet.

“So have you, Seokminnie,” Soonyoung says quietly and Seokmin tries to deny the accusation. Mingyu smiles, a small show of sharp canines and slightly crooked teeth, at the pair who are suddenly bickering in a somewhat impressive imitation of a very old, loving couple. They become so involved in the role play that they don’t notice where they’re heading.

“Do you reckon they’ll be okay with an array of grilled meat, cooked by yours truly?”

Seokmin and Soonyoung groan, snapped out of the strange hold the characters conjure and begin lecturing Mingyu on cost-effective meal ideas that don’t involve hiring out a whole barbecue set and kitchen. Finally, they become cognizant of the direction that Mingyu has been piloting them and suddenly the nagging becomes tenfold and Mingyu shrinks in on himself.

“Yah, Kim Mingyu, you seriously thought you could take us back to that meat place huh?” The quartermaster looks so disappointed and shakes his fists at the sky, like this was inevitable and the heavens are to blame instead of the nearly-two-meter-tall cook. Seokmin has a gentler way of reprimanding Mingyu, rubbing a hand up and down his arm and cooing endearments with a sprinkle of chastisement in between every other word.

Instead of going back to the wharf, the trio head deeper into the dockyard —it takes a bit longer than expected due to Mingyu’s deviation, but it was nice, scenic. There’s nothing the men like better than viewing the beauty of old rotting boats and more old rotting wood, and dirt too, and row upon row of dead fish with their milky eyes, and water; lots and lots of grey, murky water.

~

“See, I should lead more often.” The food scavengers find themselves in front of a dilapidated bar, the door half off its hinges, only because the ‘free-all-you-can-eat buffet’ advertisement scratched on a lopsided and moulding sign promised food that was within the budget. Mingyu frowns at Seokmin and his face scrunches, a tell-tale sign of a well-thought-out argument about to be released into the world, but, before he can exhale, Soonyoung is screeching something about wine and streaks towards God-knows-where, leaving Seokmin and Mingyu one oblivious moment to come back to the present.

“Shit.”

And they’re both off.

Soonyoung doesn’t go too far before he’s nearly crashing headfirst into another bar, one that is in much better condition than the first one Seokmin found. Mingyu’s long legs, while more often than not are a hindrance on the ship, prove to be useful as he lags behind only a few seconds later than Soonyoung. The quartermaster has already schooled himself into the picture of nonchalant arrogance; as if he wasn’t just about to eat out in a roach-infested bar down the road; upon reading the affluent air of the bar — and Soonyoung actually has the ability to pull it off, because he had the hindsight to wash his clothes yesterday (the clothes he stole from the former tiger-coach from the last island, way back when). When Mingyu stumbles in behind him, Soonyoung, ever the chilling actor, looks back at the chef with a micro expression of disgust, a downward twitch of his lips, and he says loudly, “Ah, good of you to join —“ before he is interrupted by the breathless, but still impossibly loud: “Soonyoung-hyung, Mingyu beat me!”

Soonyoung continues without missing a beat, “— me for the wine tasting, Minmin, oh, Seokgyu too. Don’t be late again.” Seokmin’s ‘what’ is clamped down by Mingyu’s sausage hands, and Seokmin’s eyes widen before he nods. When Mingyu takes his hand back, both Seokmin and Mingyu bow awkwardly and stand off to the side, trying to blend into the walls of the shining bar, in an attempt at a subservient impression.

The bar owner comes up to greet them, a bubbly man with the most exquisitely groomed facial hair Soonyoung has ever seen, the ends of his dark moustache curving up into carefully pinched spirals — frankly, it’s a masterpiece— complimenting his carefully shaved beard; the hair carving picturesque waves on the owner’s tanned skin. When he smiles, Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu can’t help but become enamoured by the way his beard moves, the waves move, and begin rubbing at their own hairless cheeks.

“Good morning, sir, are you here for the wine-tasting? We’ve been waiting for the duchess’ entourage, scheduled to come by quarter past.” The owner says rapidly, his pitch high and energetic and just a tad ticked-off, shooting off the information while scanning the small logbook with a pen, tapping at the page impatiently. Its already eight, with a quick glance at the mahogany grandfather clock behind the bar counter, and Soonyoung assumes the entourage are a bit occupied with other things to be forty-five minutes late to a wine-tasting appointment (also, who in their right mind would book a wine-tasting appointment this early in the day— absolute nut jobs). Isn’t it just his luck to stumble upon such a golden opportunity, a free-for-all, ripe for the taking? Of course, Soonyoung plays his hand and decides that the entourage is probably dead in a ditch of other, more pressing concerns and, as anyone would do, pretends to be the duchess’ catering crew.

“These are my lousy sous-chefs; I swear you can never find good help these days,” Soonyoung begins as a semi-introduction, waving a quick hand in Mingyu and Seokmin’s general direction, “they failed to notify me of the appointment yesterday, and today, in fact,” he fully turns to the side, where Mingyu and Seokmin have been standing, progressively raising his voice, “they failed to notify me today! I had to hear from the duchess herself, who was very excited and expected the finest wine to be delivered at the event— and lo and behold, I had no idea what she was talking about when she mentioned wine-tasting! Wine-tasting! This early in the morning we are deemed the honour, the opportunity, the privilege, to get drunk off our asses, and you. Don’t. Tell. Me.” He punctuates the last few words with a few jabs to Mingyu’s chest, whose crossed arms provide zero protection against the attack. Blessedly, Seokmin is spared, but his eyes are damp and he’s on the verge of breaking down, Soonyoung can tell, so he carefully doesn’t go near that emotional bomb. He can be extremely intense when it comes to these things and Seokmin is sensitive. Mingyu’s insides are bursting with outcry but Soonyoung gives him a small apologetic tilt of his head, for a second, and the moment proves to quench the rising anger in Mingyu, who pouts instead. Seokmin rapidly blinks and looks away when a stray, exposing tear escapes from his left eye, and he curses.

The bar owner looks sheepish at the display, half-embarrassed on behalf of the poor ‘sous-chefs’, and half-intimidated by the strangely dressed man in the dull-red coat, with an astonishing number of buckles, and a pair of russet-tight breeches to match, and another half-affronted by the words ‘ass’ and something else he would not like to repeat in his head, casually dropped, like friendly grenades, by these strange men. _Ah, this must be how the royal company like to dress and speak, how eclectic,_ the owner thinks. He won’t question it.

“Umm…. Shall we begin with the fruit cordials, or we can get straight into the Sauternes, just imported from the Southern New World?” The barman asks, with a strange lilting giddiness.

“Just give me your worst, I dare you.”

“Pardon me, sir?”

“He meant your best, please, give us your best.” Nice save, Mingyu, nice save.

~

They have a very, very wide range of wines and meads and ciders, but when they finally, finally, reach the liquors and spirits they crash— it’s the rum, it gets to them. Remarkably, they successfully select a nice and varied array of wines that they deem suitable for a royal occasion — they find out it’s a masquerade ball, as the bar owner, helpfully suggests just the right kind of drink, some light chardonnay, just to feel the buzz but not entirely impede motor function for dancing, which is essential for a ball. And also, by another miracle (God was looking down on them at this very moment), Seokmin suggests that they personally deliver it to the castle themselves, through his drink-hazed mind, he becomes so soft and inviting and much too clingy for the barman’s liking. They usually make the effort to deliver the drinks themselves, it’s part of their company creed (and their expert marketing skills) to foster trust and a sense of reliability with their customers, but if the sweet-smiling man insists (oh, God, he’s actually starting to belt out some impressively resonant notes to persuade the barman, he really doesn’t need to go that far, he’ll concede — just get them out of his bar!).

They’ve been wine-tasting for a solid two-hours, scaring off other potential customers by their sheer enthusiasm for drinking, but it’s not like the barman could leave the trio alone and wreak havoc on his cellars. They take their time to really work up a drunken haze. The cheese and breads served to them in between the tiny glasses of liquor, help their ravenous hunger, and the warm feeling in their bellies is an admissible substitute for real food, so the hunger is quenched for now. The food scavengers have more than likely forgotten all about their task to find food for the others and the ship. They leave the bar with a small carriage and six crates of their chosen drink, practically kicked out by the frazzled barman, his moustache limp with sweat and stress, and Mingyu calls out a thank you, and vague directions to put the fee on the duchess’ tab.

They’re gonna crash the shit out of the ball, mark Soonyoung’s words.

—

“Whack!”

“Whack.”

“Whack!”

The whole exchange of verbal whacks between Junhui and Wonwoo are accompanied by exaggerations of pain and a bit too much groaning. The older men are attracting the glares and judgement of the few sailing peoples patrolling the boundaries of the main hall.

Chan begins tapping Minghao’s arm vigorously and uses his head to gesture at both Wonwoo and Junhui beside them, whose verbal battle has progressed to both verbal and physical hits. And giggling. Much too much giggling.

“Hyung, if you do that one—“

“Whack.”

“—more time. Oh my God, stop! Do you want to be killed?”

“He’ll kill yous, Hyung, he’d do it.” Chan backs up, trying to wedge himself between Junhui and Wonwoo, but they easily reach over and around the cabin boy to continue with the game at hand.

“God, Chan, I’m not going to kill them, but those pissed off looking officers might.”

Minghao gives up on trying to pin Junhui’s flailing hands to his sides and discreetly points at the burly men who’ve been eyeing them. He reckons they lift anchors or something on the daily.

“Like what part of laying low do yous not understand?” Chan whines, stamping a foot. “Even Hao changed his hair colour back to black just so we could blend in. You know how much he hates shifting.” Junhui and Wonwoo stop at once, scrutinising Minghao’s black hair and in scary synchronicity they say, “Hao you look really nice, it suits you!” Minghao’s preening at the attention and Chan is in mouth-agape-bewilderment at how they’ve only just noticed the change after a solid two hours. Then, swift as a boat blessed by wind, the two towering men turn to the cabin boy— all disapproving frowns and furrowed brows, like they’ve flipped a light switch and bathed their faces in shadows— to give a whack on either side of Chan’s backside. The poor cabin boy let’s out a shrill squawk and is about to protest when Wonwoo’s bony finger hushes him.

“You must use your honorifics, Chan, it’s disrespectful. I thought I taught you better than this.” Wonwoo searches Chan’s eyes with genuine concern and Junhui shakes his head beside him. It is common knowledge on _Serenity_ that Wonwoo is practically Chan’s adoptive brother, not officially but emotionally, and that should count just as much.

Chan pouts. He stays silent for the next ten minutes in an act of petulance. In some miracle, Junhui and Wonwoo get their act together and actually become responsible Hyungs — an unfairly rare commodity for the crew — and Chan can’t even provide commentary on it because, again, he’s being petulant, and his ten-minute period hasn’t passed by yet.

They circle the perimeter of the main hall which is situated near the dockyard’s centre — they can see the central tower (castle? Junhui definitely thinks it’s a castle) just a few houses away and discern the dockyard isn’t entirely large at all, if anything, the buildings and streets of the dockyard are dense and compact, everything conjoined and pointing away from the castle in tight, concentric rings, all the roads converging at one point or another leading straight to the heart of the dockyard. They catalogue how many officers there are (six from what they can see at the main hall, and five near the castle — there are probably more inside) and their patrol routes; sending a different member to shadow each target. They make it through one officer before Chan starts speaking again.

Wonwoo returns from his run and the first thing Chan says is, “Good job, guys,” then, under his breath, “y’all are little bilge rats, just you wait.” Minghao gives him a look; he really didn’t hear Chan’s mumbling, but he knows what he probably said and perspicaciously decides that the mission at hand will continue to run smoothly if Chan’s snide remarks stay unheard. Junhui turns to Chan and throws him a shy, ‘thank you, darling’ (even though he hasn’t even done anything yet) to which Chan shudders, and Wonwoo also gives him a smile, a thumbs up and a, ‘what are Hyungs for?’, nose scrunching up in gaiety. Chan suddenly has the irrepressible urge to strangle them for a second, but it calms after Junhui’s sent off to start pursuing the second officer for the day. Chan watches in awe as Junhui totally transforms into a being of perfect stealth and subtleness (Junhui exists as a dichotomous being; either deathly quiet or dangerously loud, there really is no in-between)— his movements natural and languid and suspiciously cat-like as the officer looks over his shoulder and Junhui fluidly turns the opposite corner still with a careful eye on the officer, so naturally that if Chan didn’t know he was stalking the poor man, he’d just think he was going about his day. They wait patiently, Wonwoo even goes up to some of the townspeople to make small talk and procure any useful information about the dockyard and its inhabitants. He catches whispers of an event coming up this afternoon and something about a visiting duchess from the closest country over. Chan and Minghao watch as they fall for his quiet charm — it’s definitely the glasses, no one ever suspects spectacle-wearing people to be up to nefarious deeds in the light of the day — so it’s easy-going, albeit a little awkward, naturally, as Wonwoo’s shyness sets in around the strangers.

Roughly after eight minutes, does Junhui come back, materialising from a shadowy alleyway two streets across from where the target also appears. The officer goes back to his position at the left rear-end of the hall and stands like a sentry for a few minutes before embarking on his patrol route again.

~

Minghao, Junhui and Wonwoo are blessed with an uncanny spatial awareness and can memorize routes and paths in a heartbeat— a result of years at sea, practicing with navigational charts, reading ocean currents and constantly being aware of the depth of shoals in relation to the hull of a ship; all that landed them their roles in the navigational sector of _Serenity_. If Seungcheol wasn’t so hell-bent on having Jihoon at his side every waking moment, Jihoon would probably one-up the whole squad by using only his mind to keep track of all the officer patrols and would completely forego parchment and physically mapping out the routes with a quill (Jihoon’s brain is sexy like that); Chan gets this opportunity to prove himself and flex his exceptional quillwork. Wonwoo’s been training him in navigation for longer than Chan could read words (he only developed his reading skills after the age of sixteen) but in a stroke of bad luck, the captain says he’s the best cabin boy, despite nearing the ripe age of twenty-two, and would like to keep him that way.

After two and a half hours the navigational squad finish the map of patrol routes, and after another three hours they fill in the blank spaces of the map completing a raw dockyard chart, ready for Jihoon to annotate and collate with the plethora of other maps and charts stowed away on _Serenity_.

In their campaign to scout the area, the men learn of a masquerade ball that will begin at the zenith of the sun and into the twilight of midnight— the dockyard’s event of the year— and have a terrible inkling that it may be their event for the year too. What a twist of fate, or, rather, a twist of the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for making it this far and reading this kinda long chapter, hopefully it makes up for a bit of a wait we may experience (but only God knows) for the upcoming chapters, im a slow writer ;.;


	3. Blind but not behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihoon has a problem with Seungkwan being at Hansol's throat, Seungcheol finds it kind of funny. Chan and Minghao are the real MVP's and everyone else just sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew i made it within the month haha, enjoy this long piece.  
> im not entirely satisfied with the pacing but it is what it is~

Jihoon shakes his head, tired and absolutely _over it._ Unfortunately, they ditched the splitting up idea after some unforeseen circumstances. Hansol’s not okay, apparently.

“Look, Boo, I don’t have a clue as to why my body’s acting this way, but I swear to God, if you so much as move away from me one more time, I might just… “ Hansol trails off, losing the little heat he had at the start of his ramble. Hansol never rambles and now he’s stuck, awestruck, and caught in the sunlight that radiates from Boo Seungkwan. A shine that, it seems, only he can see.

Seungkwan has been using brute force; kicking, punching and pushing, against the vice that is Hansol’s hugs but Hansol is too nice to recognise it as the violent acts they are.

“You might just what, Sol? Huh? Tell me what you’ll do, punk.”

“Stop fighting the urge to kiss you or lose my bloody marbles, or maybe both, I don’t know! Ugh.”

“Please, we have to keep it consensual everyone, and I know it’s not _entirely_ Hansol’s fault, but we need to find a way to reverse this shit-spell he’s under, or we could probably wait it out, it’s not super debilitating.” Seungcheol says, suggestion hidden in his words— the captain knows a lot more than he lets on — like a part of this _is_ kind of Hansol’s fault. Seungcheol is taking the situation in stride, handling it way better than the others since he’s actually finding this whole _‘Hansol-was-nearly-blinded-but-now-he’s-blinded-by-love’_ situation an amazing source of entertainment. Jihoon drags Seungkwan towards Hansol, who begins making pitiful grabby hands for Seungkwan’s arm.

He’s turned into an absolute leech.

It becomes impossible for Hansol to even think about Seungkwan negatively, their witty banter fizzling up dry, like a puddle of water in the desert, as Hansol loses all sense of rationality and thought— head full of Seungkwan, and only Seungkwan.

“Who says it’s a spell, maybe Sol’s finally fallen for my great a—“

“Okay,” Jihoon nervously drawls, cutting off Seungkwan, “can we just finish getting the supplies, all that’s left is the gunpowder, please. _Please._ ” Jihoon never begs, but in this moment, under the blazing afternoon sun, he’s on his knees a hairsbreadth away from grovelling.

It’s a time of firsts for everyone.

Seungcheol takes pity on Jihoon and they finally move from the small resting place they have found in one of the empty alleyways, wedged between a book exchange and a small boutique, out of commission and empty except for the naked wooden mannequins that’ve been abandoned there. They have been careful about concealing the crate of cannon balls they are lugging around on their trusty and rusty old dolly trolley (Seungkwan and Hansol went back to fetch her off _Serenity_ , after they realised she was missing). They purchase more cartridge bags, another metre strip of cloth and another vent pick, because Jeonghan accidentally threw it overboard last week trying to skewer Jisoo through the eye (they were playing, okay), from the shipyard, on the far east of the dockyard. They don’t acquire the gunpowder along with it. The stores were all out. Apparently the militia scoured the whole shipyard of gunpowder after a large group of vigilante pirates tried to annex the whole dockyard a fortnight ago. When the shipwright recounts the disaster, the crew give each other awkward side-glances and strain a polite smile for the entirety of their trip, particularly at the frowning assistant salesman scanning them like he can see right through the forced politeness and give vague answers to the shipwright’s curious questions — luckily they’re rather modest for pirates and don’t give off criminal, marauder vibes, so they’re good, and fly low on the pirate radar. Well, maybe except Seungcheol, he’s semi-infamous in the pirate world, but they don’t mention it much.

They forage about the east-side of the dockyard and come up empty-handed after hearing about another six renditions of the pirate escapade, each one progressively crazier than the last — the pirates had supposedly roped up cannibalistic, feral merpeople, even a few selkies in their seal forms, and rode them through the town eating at the children, but they can’t find any solid evidence for that particular account (the seaman reeks of rum and the boys almost mistake him for a fellow pirate). One local sailor suggests they search the dockyard’s west-side— the pirates had only been able to cover half the town with their carnage before the civilians took up arms and banded against them, hanging the criminals they were able to seize and scattering the rest of the pirates like rats in an uncovered sewer with every firearm they could muster.

Hence the lack of gunpowder.

Seungcheol becomes more determined to stay out of any hairy business and quickens their pace, very nearly regretting his refusal of the woollen coat, of increasing his visual insignificance, then not at all, when he sees his reflection winking back at him, wobbling in the sparkling aqueduct. He likes his blouse and pantaloons, very, very much.

Jihoon nudges him along the narrow walkway when he gets caught up in the moment and Seungcheol gives him a wink and a gentle nudge in return. Sometimes Jihoon’s captain is quite impossible. Insufferable. And adorable all the same, with the way he giggles at his own reflection. Jihoon lets him have these moments, because they disappear for months on end when the mood decides it— and the mood decides it more times than Jihoon likes, with Seungcheol’s recurrent ocean blues. He’s been having them ever since Jihoon can remember.

“Hansol Vernon Chwe, I can’t bloody well walk with you right next to me, or we’ll both be swimming in shitty water, yanno,” Seungkwan says, sigh quiet but full-bodied. He’s long given up trying to detach Hansol from his side about three shops ago.

“I know, Seungkwan, but it really hurts when we’re apart.” Hansol replies. Together they stop at the lip of the aqueduct, smart enough not to attempt the narrow walk just yet.

Jihoon looks back at them and sighs.

“Sol, just give him a back hug or something.” Seungkwan whines at Seungcheol’s proposal but doesn’t physically object to the new position Hansol has occupied, stuck around his waist, like some warm-blooded octopus, hug tight and unrelenting.

They make it across the walkway, with a few scuffles here and there.

(“Hansol, if you step on my heel one more time, I’m going to throw us both off this walkway. And if drowning in faeces doesn’t kill us, I’ll resort to castrating you in our sleep, alright?” The saccharine smile edges on insanity, as Seungkwan turns in Hansol’s embrace, Hansol mirrors the smile, so, so sweetly, Seungkwan actually blushes, but if it’s from anger or a sudden shyness towards Hansol, everyone remains none the wiser).

Seungcheol takes the trolley from Jihoon’s hands, leading the group to the marine stores after politely asking a blushing lass for directions. Her eyes would stray downwards at Seungcheol’s open chest, redness creeping up behind her ears and when the captain gives her a small gummy grin and that open, guileless stare Seungcheol’s face adopts fifty percent of the time, she absolutely cannot meet his gaze or his left camel ear or anything remotely Seungcheol— fully scandalised in the early afternoon light and stammering quickly through the directions like her life depends on it.

Maybe, her life really did hang in the balance in that moment.

Jihoon sighs quietly, watching the exchange unfold with a sense of sympathy for the lass’ misfortune. Jihoon’s much too familiar with this certain brand of Seungcheol.

Finally, they find the gunpowder they oh so need, stashed away in sizeable kegs, kept at the back of the store and Jihoon nearly collapses in relief — he can’t take another hour of Seungkwan’s juvenile abuse towards Hansol. He doesn’t like to play favourites, but it hurts him to see both Seungkwan and Hansol like this, his (debatably) favourite dongsaengs on the ship. Seungkwan bordering on cruelty; when really he is sweet and sensitive, always reciprocating kindness and fiercely protecting those he loves; and Hansol just taking it, when the quiet oddball is usually quick to defend himself, taking no one’s injustice, unable to let it slide past him without a great deal of pacific reprove. Hansol is calm, always level-headed (though, sometimes, his mind could be on cloud nine where no one could reach) and not as outwardly chaotic as the rest— if he was, _Serenity_ would be up in flames ten times over in just the last month— and Seungkwan is a ball of energy, a source of respite with long stretches of nothingness that is the sea, he is everything, alive and like the wind that moves them. The two meet each other in the middle, a play of balance, but in this moment they are in dissonance and Jihoon can’t have it any longer.

But people can’t always get what they want.

When the shopkeeper finally emerges from deep within the stores of the shop, he startles at the four of them, nearly dropping the ring of keys that chime in his worn hands. Surprised, the shopkeeper starts with a soft but resounding, “Oh, hey there fellas,” like he hadn’t realised he had any customers, despite the racket that inevitably follows the crew of _Serenity_ (Seungkwan is nagging at Hansol— at least this is familiar— and Seungcheol provides very unnecessary commentary about the dramatic details of the ‘Kwannie-Nonnie’ soap opera) _._ The shopkeeper jangles his keys _—_ “I was just closin’ up shop for the duchess’s ball right now. You’re welcome to join me, and I’ll make it up to yous for the little inconvenience, whatever you’re looking for I’ll discount, yeah?” The four boys really are pirates to their bones and grin wickedly at the sound of the word ‘discount’ — a beautiful, life-altering word— and even Jihoon, who only two-minutes before was ready to collapse from relief at the possibility of finally getting to the ship and wants nothing more than to finish their little supply run, cannot deny a good discount.

Goddamn, it better be worth all the trouble. Still, the first mate relents with a defeated sigh.

“We don’t get to celebrate much around here, so come along with me, will ye?” The shopkeeper waves them over to the counter, where he busies himself with the till and the other keys that are stored within the many drawers in front of him.

The silence prompts an answer and Jihoon says, “we’re looking to refill some of our own barrels with gunpowder.” The shopkeeper nods easily.

“Of course, let me see… it’ll be two gold pieces per keg, and is it just a standard barrel?” — Seungcheol nods in answer— “all good then, one keg will be enough to fill three-quarters of your barrel,” he says while scrawling the details on a piece of ripped parchment. “How many barrels are you looking to fill?”

Hansol fills him in on the remaining details, looking to fill five whole barrels, and amazingly succeeds without mentioning Boo Seungkwan once.

The shopkeeper diligently calculates the amount needed and, of course, the discounted price— he only gives a small twitch of a bushy brow at the sight of Hansol with both arms wrapped snug around Seungkwan’s shoulders, both boys swaying slightly as Hansol rocks them absentmindedly, and Seungkwan just stares back, unfocused and vacant, ever so slightly sucking in his cheeks; the shopkeeper continues on.

“Alright, fellas, that would normally come up to around 13 gold pieces, with a half keg thrown in, but I promised you a discount so how ‘bout we make it seven gold pieces?”

Quickly, Seungkwan seems to come out of his vacancy to make his suggestion: “how about seven gold pieces and make the half keg a whole one?” The shopkeeper simply chuckles but accepts the offer.

“Alright, because I’m in a good mood, I’ll give you that deal.”

Seungcheol reaches out and seals the exchange with a firm shake and hands over seven gold pieces. “Oh, my offer still stands… come, accompany me to the masquerade so I can get right onto your order once I’m over all the partying. I don’t think my old bones will last more than three hours, but there’s gonna be loads of nice eatables, I hear.”

“Uhm, yeah, sure, I guess.” Jihoon, always the voice of caution, is uncertain in what he’s getting the boys into— he really doesn’t like to party, he’d rather stay in his hammock, in the safe wooden walls of _Serenity_ , but the other three men look about ready to party like there’s no tomorrow, agreeing enthusiastically at the prospect of some fun and some food. Jihoon needs to go back to the ship anyways to drop off the other supplies and see if Mingyu, Seokmin and Soonyoung have come back with any meal prospects, once he knows exactly where the shopkeeper is whisking them away.

Hell, it’s only for a few hours. Probably. Surely, in that time, Seungcheol, Seungkwan and Hansol can’t get up to too much trouble.

—

“I’ve never been to a masquerade before,” Jisoo says as he squints at the fine print of one of the many invitation posters mounted on the ballroom walls. Jeonghan is beside him, burlap bag quickly filling with valuables— the silverware is practically calling out to be stolen and so are the dainty gems hooked onto the lip of the tables. Jeonghan gives the silverware a good bite before nodding in satisfaction and discreetly placing the piece among the others in the bag. He is careful about picking the silverware from the out-skirting tables, where they won’t be obviously missed. When Jisoo catches him with his fourth gold-plated spoon, it’s handle inlaid with the tiniest ruby gems, he lightly slaps at Jeonghan’s hands.

“What did we say about stealing? We’ve only come to see what the whole commotion is and then we need to get out as soon as we can.” Jisoo says serenely, but with harshness in his doe-eyes. Jeonghan pouts in response. This softens the doctor who understands that sometimes Jeonghan really can’t help it, and he lets him have his fourth spoon, but he draws the line at the fourth.

Jeonghan and Jisoo were let into the castle easily enough. Though, they did come through the back way, passing by the kitchens and all the ugly behind the scenes of an important event like this one, spending a moment to explore the first floor of the castle chatting up the catering staff and locating where exactly their uniforms hailed from (of course it’s Prairie’s Boutique) as Jeonghan charms his way into a porter’s good graces by lending a hand in shining the chinaware and cutlery. Then they move up the stairs quietly where the actual event is being held, a smaller presence of people already there. Still, they are not hindered by anyone as they make their way around the set-up, just ‘observing’ — that’s what they tell anyone who chirps in their direction, politely asking what the two strange men were up to (they get away with it and Jeonghan thinks they have terrible security protocols or no sense of suspicion). After their snooping, Jeonghan and Jisoo embark on a little adventure around the dockyard to find the notorious, ‘Prairie’s Boutique’, unsurprised that the clothing chain had reached a little dockyard like this one.

Jisoo read every single word of the fine print and made a flippant suggestion about gate-crashing the whole event just for the buffet. Of course, Jeonghan doesn’t let the joke slide, eyes lighting up and grin growing deviously. Jeonghan says, “Yanno, that isn’t a half bad idea, love.”

Jisoo groans at his own carelessness.

They have to go through with the gate-crashing; once Jeonghan has made his mind up about something there really is no stopping him.

Fast-forward an hour or two and now they find themselves outside ‘Prairie’s Boutique’, bolt-locked, as most of the dockyard is currently preparing for the duchess’ masquerade ball and looking deliciously easy to break into— Jeonghan is a pirate after all, and it so happens that he carries a hairpin with him at all times.

These chocolate locks don’t keep themselves up and out of the way.

~

“Jeonghan-ah, you can only pick one, and only from this section.” Jisoo speaks firmly but sweetly, characteristically soft like he’s careful not to wake a sleeping baby. Jisoo speaks sweetly because if he adopts any other tone Jeonghan will run rampart and grow more defiant in his quest purloining every article of clothing he deems pretty.

He deems half the boutique’s clothes pretty.

And maybe even more so after he wanders through the women’s section.

Jeonghan unhooks a darling lilac blouse when pleated puff sleeves catch his eye among the rack of clothes. Slowly, he reveals lace ruffles and a collar adorned with a floppy bow that elicits and awe-full gasp, more of a short inhale of breath than actual voice. It’s not a loud sound but it’s enough to startle Jisoo who is standing guard near the entrance of the boutique, his strategic placement behind the boutique counter enough to veil him from outside onlookers whilst keeping an eye on the barrel-maker taking his time perusing the rows of suits and dresses.

He holds up the bonny blouse for Jisoo to see, now that he’s got his attention, and gives it a little twirl on its hanger, perfect square teeth showing in a shy grin and his whole face alights in an open question: ‘Shuji-yah, can I have it? Can I?’

Jisoo gives him a stern gaze, a small perceptible shake of a head that gets promptly ignored by Jeonghan who continues to bore his questioning look into Jisoo.

He continues to sternly stare.

Jeonghan continues to questioningly look.

It’s a battle of wills and once it’s a battle of will, Jisoo is inevitably the loser. Always. Jisoo is far from being weak-willed but his will has a natural proneness to a certain Yoon Jeonghan, wilting at the ferocity of Jeonghan’s sun-bright determination. They are both strong-willed — they have to be in this profession — but it’s a play of circumstances, specifically involving the barrel-maker, if one wants to compare the two in tenaciousness, Yoon Jeonghan wins by a small fraction. And that’s only once he actually begins his tenacity, it has to start first— wherein lies the problem of Yoon Jeonghan’s laziness.

Jeonghan has to check in with the doctor because nothing ever, _ever_ , gets past him where Jeonghan is concerned. If he doesn’t get it Jisoo-approved, or if he even attempted to sneak it into his burlap sack away from the doctors prying eyes, the doctor always has his ways of finding out. Jeonghan wouldn’t put it past him to give his burlap a security check before they leave the store or give his body a pat down — Jeonghan would tease him relentlessly, still, it would not hinder Jisoo in his efforts to quell Jeonghan’s kleptomania.

It doesn’t matter anyways, Jeonghan also has his ways in getting just what he wants. After another three minutes of intense staring and lots of suggestive eyebrow waggling on Jeonghan’s end, Jisoo looks away in defeat, disappointed and dejected, as he closes his eyes and wordlessly shakes his head.

Jeonghan steals the blouse. Neatly, he folds the piece and places it gingerly in his bag, smug and absolutely satisfied.

Not even ten seconds later Jeonghan’s already got his hands on more.

“Ah, Shuji-yah, you’d look so dashing in this!”

Looking for the catering uniforms is totally forgotten at this point.

In the end Jeonghan liberates three suits along with his lilac blouse and some capes and cloaks in true masquerade style— a sleek grey suit and a cloak with pastel pink-velvet inner lining for Jisoo and a matching one for himself but opting for a shoulder cape instead, then an ivory suit for the day he holds his wedding, whenever that is. When Jeonghan unveils his reasoning behind the pick to persuade Jisoo, the young doctor merely scoffs, but away from the barrel-maker’s shining gaze, when he was astutely distracted by all the pretty suits and blouses, Jisoo smiles to himself at the image of Jeonghan on his wedding day.

~

Jeonghan retrieves two golden masks from within his burlap sack and Jisoo ogles the offending pieces— so, Jeonghan can sometimes get past Jisoo’s ever-present surveillance, but only sometimes. He was able to snag them on their way out of the castle, when they hid in one of the larger storerooms upon seeing a familiar looking guard officer.

“They’re the VIP, special-guest-only, must-be-stinking-rich, megastar, supreme masks—“ Jisoo opens his mouth to probably reprimand the barrel-maker, but Jeonghan doesn’t let him _breathe_ , ploughing on “— pretty sure you have to be on a specific guest list to be given one and there’s only, like, fifty of them,” Jisoo nods, dumbstruck. He’s the one who read all the fine print detail after all, not Jeonghan, “I just love how these royal rats act like they’re so pragmatic, and... and...” Jisoo watches for a moment as Jeonghan searches through his vocabulary store of, ‘the biggest words to use sparingly and in the right context’, using his last brain cells and all his forehead muscles to come up with: “Magnanimous! And magnanimous. When they’re still clearly segregating social classes. Hmph!” Now, Jeonghan has made himself depressed with his shrewd perception and Jisoo titters at the poor sight of the barrel-maker pouting and crossing his arms around his shoulders. It’s a comforting gesture for Jeonghan, Jisoo knows.

They sneak back into the castle, now brimming with dockyard civilians and non-civilians alike, wading through the thinner crowd— feathers, silk and fluttering lace catching on their own pretty cloaks— surrounding the rear of the castle to the back way entrance the two used earlier in the day.

Before leaving the premise of the boutique Jisoo and Jeonghan had changed into their respective suits, Jeonghan giddy with excitement at the scarily perfect tailoring of the clothes as Jisoo helped slip the waistcoat over puff sleeves, forgoing the actual suit coat and matching shirt to flaunt the beautiful blouse in all its silken glory, black cavalier cape thrown right back over one shoulder, minimizing unnecessary blouse coverage. Jisoo gave the sleeve’s material a somewhat reverent and tender stroke, the pleated folds gliding through broad calloused fingers and his smile bloomed slowly.

“You look really nice, Jeonghan-ah.”

The admission has been replaying in the barrel-makers head, and softly it repeats again as they slip past the kitchens.

Jisoo stops at the commotion filtering from the castle’s mess, his eyes widening, and he grabs Jeonghan’s arm to still him before they can fully pass the kitchen and the savoury, buttery aromas wafting through the cracks of the door.

“I just heard Min-ah singing.”

Jeonghan furrows his brow, but the movement is hidden behind gold, and lurches towards the kitchen, peeking through the circle window of the push door, tilting his head slightly to hear any tell-tale signs of his favourite dongsaeng. He can’t see much, the window blurring with condensed vapor; he can feel the heat emanating from the wood of the door, through its very splinters.

Then a large blob of a face, red and bushy with what Jeonghan perceives as anger, fills the entirety of the small window and Jeonghan’s face would be half destroyed with the sheer force of the door swinging open had it not been for Jisoo yanking him sideways.

The man yells, something about using the main entrance, and scatters the two away before they can catch Seokmin belting out nonsense lyrics about potatoes.

—

“To boil or to bake, let’s all just appreciate, the versatility of golden spuds~”

“Please stop him, Soonyoung-hyung.”

“No, let him be, he sounds exquisite and this is some very good improv.”

Mingyu can’t disagree with that, but he is worried about exacting any more attention to themselves than what he deems necessary. Soonyoung would beg to differ. The best place to hide is right in the open. That is what he would say to Mingyu if he ever divulged his worries to the quartermaster.

The food scavengers were able to successfully infiltrate the kitchen staff after they were over their heads in grief at the lack of beverages to offer at the event. Caught in the midst of a collective mental breakdown, when the head chef and his kitchen hands were graced with the pirates’ presence at the back entrance of the castle, they almost kneeled at their luck and relief, clasping their hands in mock prayer and singing their gratitude at the sight of the three inebriated men and their golden carriage of wines and meads.

Inevitably, they were indebted to the pirates — which is very unfortunate of them— and offered to do anything in recompense.

This is a golden chance to swindle them, being pirates and all, but instead the trio offer to help some more, requesting to let them into the event as part of the catering crew. Of course, how could the head chef reject such a simple request, especially as such request would be more beneficial to them than to the three unbeknown pirates.

If only they knew.

And now, Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu are deep within the event, even lucky enough to have a short correspondence with the duchess herself, who thanked them for their resourcefulness and even went as far as offering them a permanent position among her company. With superficial regret, they decline the offer, admitting their deep roots to the dockyard and their trepidation in leaving their restaurants, passed down for generations — Soonyoung inducing lies from both Seokmin and Mingyu to successfully spin his tale— before the duchess pats their hands graciously, disappointment evident in her eyes as she is summoned away in a whirl of silks and lace to other pressing masquerade matters.

When they have a moment to themselves, the three of them feigning errands to get some foodstuff from the walk-in freezer (a questionable meeting place and a serendipity), they give each other one knowing look.

“Nice tiara.”

Then they proceed to be shocked at their telepathy, pointing at one another and making strange astonished and exhilarated noises until an assistant pastry chef interrupts the strange exchange trying to get the frozen berries that are on the shelf behind Mingyu, quietly perturbed at the temporarily recruited sous-chefs.

The trio leave with the same unsaid plan in mind:

Time for a heist.

The event picks up when the musicians arrive at the event. Accompanied with an array of strings and one very short panpipe player, the masquerade kicks off when the duchess calls for a bright tune to be played, as civilians and other noble people, clad in masks and their best dress, stream through the ballroom doors of the second floor.

Nothing awfully interesting happens for the first two hours the masquerade party is underway. Soonyoung and Mingyu fill in for the waiting staff, donning the stipulated, sleek black masks, with more than enough hands helping in the kitchen now that most of the food preparation is done. Seokmin has charmed his way into a semi-permanent position beside the head chef who has fallen for his sweet piercing voice, admitting that they need a little more theatrics in the kitchen— the music from the ballroom isn’t loud enough to overpower the noise of a bustling kitchen, but Seokmin sure is.

Most of the special guests — the ones with the golden masks bearing the duchess’ royal crest; a sparkling fountain, a faceless mermaiden and forked trident woven in the shape of a shield; stamped on the bottom left corner, above the apple of the cheek — have registered and entered the hall. Supposedly, there should be roughly forty or so of these guests and only forty or so of these masks were created especially for the esteemed.

Mingyu knows for a fact that Jeonghan and Jisoo are not on the registry of special guests and, in turn, should not be adorning the duchess’ golden masks. But there they stand in semi-matching attire and catching the light of the grand ballroom chandeliers in the small quartz rhinestones of their golden masks, amidst the company of the duchess taking up the centre of the ballroom.

Mingyu elbows the quartermaster beside him, nearly dislodging the tray of caviar jellies wobbling menacingly just as Soonyoung rights the tray with both hands. He nearly cusses out Mingyu in the light of the ballroom surrounded by noblemen and women and the duchess herself just a few meters away.

“Careful, Gyu,” says Soonyoung after he collects himself. Mingyu makes a startled noise and tries to direct Soonyoung’s attention towards the other members with his chin, hands occupied with trays of sweet wines, as Soonyoung quietly runs his mouth, describing exactly what might happen in a hypothetical scenario where Mingyu is ‘accidentally’ shoved down the ballroom steps. He’s surveying the ballroom out of habit and finally he follows Mingyu’s gaze. “...the harder they fall— Oh, wow. Hi, Jeonghannie-hyung!” Soonyoung finishes with a shout before Mingyu can muffle him with a sweaty palm.

He can see Jeonghan tense, his back scrunching up and the silk moving with the small movement, hands stilling in their animated movements as he talks to another pudgy partygoer. Jisoo turns to the side minutely, towards Soonyoung and Mingyu’s direction, and Mingyu can see him giggling before he cups a secretive hand to Jeonghan’s ear, whispering something to the barrel-maker. Jeonghan then relaxes, running a comforted hand across Jisoo’s cloaked back and continues his conversation without too much of a hitch.

“Do you know me?” The slim lady makes the customary greeting, curtsying in her silk skirts. “What are you offering in those flutes, dear?” The questions divert Mingyu’s attention away from the two pirates and he puts on his best, most disarming grin, leaning down towards the lady’s hidden ear, a colourful pastel mask and peacock feather headpiece completely concealing her features.

“Milady—“

Before he can give her an answer a commotion breaks out at the main entrance.

“Sir, you cannot enter without a mask,” the royal guard booms as the balding man attempts to stride past the checkpoint.

“I demand you check that bloody list of yours again!”

The guard collects himself, aware of the hush that has fallen over the ballroom at their outbursts.

“Sorry, sir, we may have made a mistake on the guest list, we made sure to have a mask for each and every one of the guests, perhaps if you got here a bit earlier,” he starts but shakes his head, resolute. “We cannot let you in without a mask, sir.” 

“But I was specifically instructed not to bring a mask for I was invited specially, I even have the invitation with the duchess’ seal, right here.” He ruffles through the inner pockets of his cloak, but the guard stops him with an open palm. The balding man huffs, humiliation and indignation flush high on his ruddy jowls.

“I sincerely apologise but it is the duchess’ rules without exception so you cannot come in without a mask. Perhaps you can purchase one?” The royal guard offers half-heartedly as the queue behind rustle with agitated whispers and louder insults.

“The duchess can—“ The balding man proceeds to curse colourfully, and the expletives pour out of him like a torrent of water until he’s manhandled away from the premises by more guards. Some men have embarrassingly small egos.

The duchess claps her hands, stating that a masquerade is not a masquerade without some drama and attempts to burgeon the chatter and laughter back to its previous volume, calling for more wine and food to be brought out to the tables.

Peacock lady has disappeared, probably to get a good look at the juicy happenings erupting before their eyes and Mingyu looks around for the pastel-coloured mask. He also realizes Soonyoung’s absence beside him and catches his wild, auburn mullet making haste towards the action near the entrance. Mingyu sighs.

“I know you.” Mingyu jumps at the voice’s proximity just behind the shell of his ear, the warm breath making him cringe.

He knows this voice.

When he turns around to look at his hyung, Jeonghan dramatically pulls his shoulder cape to conceal the bottom half of his face.

“Oh my God, Jeonghan-hyung, _shut up_ ,” The chef laughs, quickly pulling at the cape before he suffers from severe second-hand embarrassment. “That was completely your fault wasn’t it?”

“What! _No_. I’m just really getting into the whole vibe, you know?” Jeonghan lightly pushes at Mingyu’s shoulder, and the alcohol still left in his system makes him sway unsteadily.

“Right. And I literally knew it was you, it’s not a very good disguise, hyung. I think you need to get in the vibe better, man.” Mingyu laughs lightly. Now that he can see Jeonghan up close, he can see the pretty outfit he has on, most definitely, totally, new and _stolen_.

“Damn, nice waistcoat… you… did you really ransack a boutique, hyung?” Mingyu pulls at the tag that peaks out from the back of Jeonghan’s neckline and silently reads, ‘Prairie’s Boutique’. Jeonghan quickly tugs the tag back, tucking it into his blouse, hushing Mingyu and giving him a look of incredulity.

“Mingyu-yah the focal point of my outfit is the blouse not the waistcoat!”

He needs to head back into the kitchen again, someone calling urgently for the next batch of trays to be brought out and replaced, but he listens to Jeonghan ramble about his misadventures for a moment, like a good dongsaeng would— Jeonghan loves his younger members so much, sometimes it hurts his heart, with how full of adoration it is, bursting at the seams and oozing out of the spaces in between the stitches. He pinches Mingyu’s cheeks.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna rock up to the duchess’ ball in my nasty breeches, I didn’t get to wash my shirt with Soonie’s load yesterday.” 

“I’m pretty sure no one got to Soonyoung-hyung’s load, that selfish bastard, he used up the last of the freshwater and bicarb powder for that ridiculous tiger-trainer outfit he’s obsessed with. Typical. Red isn’t even his colour, hyung, he’s tasteless.” Mingyu is still giggling while he says this. He doesn’t mention how they probably wouldn’t have pulled off the wine-tasting stunt had Soonyoung not washed his clothes but Mingyu’s sure they would’ve figured something out.

Jeonghan admonishes Mingyu, warning him about not letting Soonyoung hear his hurtful comments, then swiftly changes topic.

“Look! Me and Joshuji got matching suits!” He squeals, then breathlessly he asks, “isn’t it just darling?” Jeonghan sighs, dreamy and extremely satisfied with the outfits he meticulously picked and stole — Jisoo looks rather dashing in grey, in Jeonghan’s humble opinion. Mingyu can see Jisoo making his way over to them, plate full of hors d’oeuvres and his other hand carefully balancing two flutes of wine between skilled fingers.

“‘Joshuji and I’, hyung,” Mingyu corrects just as Jeonghan questions: “wait, where is Shuji-yah?”

“Here! I’m here.” Jeonghan alleviates Jisoo’s burden with a small thanks, sipping the wine and placing a small finger tart in front of Jisoo, who opens his mouth obediently and eats the tart whole. While he chews his eyes grow wide and both Mingyu and Jeonghan know it must be delicious enough to be deemed the doctor’s approval.

Mingyu leaves them to their own devices, the kitchen hands shouting for more waiters, snappy and impatient. As he leaves he hears Jisoo mention something about ballroom dancing, but he doesn’t get any time to digest the presence of his crew member let alone his topic of conversation, whisked back into the kitchen to carry out his duties as a temporary waiter.

—

“I thought everyone was invited to the thing,” Hansol wonders as they pass by the dense living quarters — not exactly central to the dockyard but pushed to the back, on the borders of the castle’s rear, hiding the poverty behind fish stalls and towers.

“The masquerade?” The old shopkeeper offers before shrugging, “not too sure. Maybe they can’t afford to buy th’own masks? That’s all we need to enter. Oh, and some disguises.”

They continue to pass by the sparse amount of folks sticking to the margins of the alleys, trying to fit into the slim shadows cast by the stone buildings and the blazing sun slowly descending from its highest peak— their clothes barely providing any protection to the outside elements, threadbare and soiled eternally. Yeah, if they were going to purchase anything, a masquerade mask would be the last of their concerns.

“Are ya fellas up for buying a new set of clothes?” He says, sheepish, because he’s essentially saying their clothes are really not masquerade worthy. They really aren’t. But they were not planning on shopping for new clothes or attending masquerades— they have their priorities sorted, obviously. “It’s ok if you’re not, I think I’ve got a few spare suits and cloaks at home from my hay day, that might just be your sizes.” Then he looks over to Jihoon and his eyes widen, Jihoon cuts him off before he can say anything that inevitably follows this course of conversation (about his stature that is).

“I have to go back to the ship anyways. It’s fine, really.” Jihoon insists when the old man gives him a guilty look. He assures them it’s fine another three times before the shopkeeper acquiesces and they continue to the old man’s living quarters first to get dressed, then head straight to the castle close by. Jihoon drops the boys off with quickly whispered words and even quieter warnings about staying low key.

~

Jihoon hears the others before he actually sees them, relieved at their high-spirited energy. He expects no less, especially since Junhui is with them.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine, Chan then.

“It’s fine! Jeonghannie-hyung doesn’t even have a client yet.”

“How would you know?”

“It usually takes him at least twenty-four hours to find a client. He’s a very distracted man, Channie. You know this.” A different voice replies. Jihoon thinks it’s the deep muffled voice of Wonwoo.

Jihoon peeks his head through the hatch, instantly, silence meets him and the clicking of pistols being readied.

“Oh, Jihoon-ah! It’s just Jihoon-ah.”

Minghao clicks his pistol back into safety. Wonwoo doesn’t but he puts it back into his holster smiling up at his fellow navigator. Kind of dangerous. Junhui and Chan are further back in the food stores which are brimming beautifully with crates of non-perishables and a small basket of fresh stuff for immediate eating, newly stocked for another long voyage. Jihoon is pretty sure Soonyoung’s team was in charge of food stock. The water barrels have also been stocked while they’re at it, God, they _are_ amazing. If Chan and Minghao are anything they are efficient. It’s almost scary. Junhui and Wonwoo may have helped but it’s a two to one probability; but, considering the time, every one of them must have had a hand in the productivity— why do they keep assigning Soonyoung, Seokmin and Mingyu to the stocks, when they could have this efficiency? Jihoon tucks the thought away to discuss with Seungcheol at a later date.

Jihoon pops down the ladder swiftly, skipping every second rung and when he has his feet planted he asks, “have you seen Seok’s squad yet?”

“You think we would be filling the pantry if we’d seen them, hyung?” Minghao responds, a bit ticked off, a bit annoyed, but Jihoon knows it isn’t for him.

Wonwoo actually answers his question; they haven’t seen them or heard from them for a while now.

“The last thing I felt from Soon and Mingyu-yah were like super relaxing, you know like when they get a bit tipsy, that feeling— then I didn’t bother to tune in again,” says Wonwoo, finishing with a shrug. Then, Wonwoo seems to recall something and excitedly he questions, “what’s the deal with Hansol, Jihoon-ah?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms in exasperation, _don’t even get him started._ Jihoon doesn’t bother answering the actual question instead muttering a, ‘see for yourself later,’ and Wonwoo doesn’t push any further for details, satisfied at the non-answer.

Junhui and Chan are still packing the last of the foodstuff, meticulously arranging to fit them in the shelves to occupy maximum space. They’re not very good at it, as Chan tears the flour bag trying to flatten it between two crates, and silently, wildly gesturing to Junhui beside him for help. Junhui sees this struggle and proceeds to push at the bag, slapping a palm over the tear like it could stop it from spreading and continues to shove it into the sliver of a space. Wonwoo senses the panic and urgency behind him and calmly retrieves a spare cotton sack, pushing the boys out of the way and chucking the spilling contents, torn bag and all, into the sack, tying the bag on itself and chucking it away into a corner with a little puff of white powder. It’s full of other cotton sacks and crates but, honestly, Jihoon probably couldn’t do any better. _Ah, this is why they get Seokmin, Mingyu and Soonyoung to do the foodstuff,_ Jihoon realizes.

“Alright. Cool. That was the last of it, I think,” says Chan, dusting off his palm across his dark breeches, leaving streaks of white. Jihoon doesn’t have the heart to tell them that they’ll probably have to redo the arranging and most of their valiant effort was of waste, so he doesn’t. “Oh, hyung! We finished the chart.” Chan leaps towards Jihoon who holds out his arms to catch him. He doesn’t reach far enough but Chan is steady on his feet when he whips out the scroll of parchment, unfurling it to display right in Jihoon’s face.

“Thanks, Channie.” Jihoon says amiably, reaching blindly to pat his dongsaeng on the shoulder. He hits his neck at first, Chan yelps, but then he rights his hand.

“Let’s go find the rest of those scoundrels. You need to find Jeonghan-hyung and Shua-hyung, right?” They need to stop Jeonghan and Jisoo from finding a potential client to sell their plunder, they’ve already sold the plunder for food. It happens sometimes.

They chorus their agreement and make plans to scour the dockyard for their troublesome members.

“We’ll start at the castle. I dropped the boys off there, and everyone’s going to some masquerade. I’d be surprised if they aren’t there already.”

Jihoon’s right of course. He really does know his members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank you for reading so far! i love you lots for doing so.  
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE AND I HOPE EVERYONE IS BLESSED IN THE COMING YEAR~~  
> give yourselves a pat on the back for persevering through such a year. may God bless us all <3

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it this far, hopefully that was alright and made you kinda smile
> 
> drop by my twitter @4643hui  
> if anyone's interested in motivating me to write and bounce ideas off me or even just read what i've already got written then please drop by and don't be shy~
> 
> again, updates will be very slow, apologies in advance.


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